He Speaks German
by MadoriaFen
Summary: Lucy writes a letter to Amy, hoping someday her sister will be back to read it. Spoilers for all of Season 1 but focuses on events Episode 1X04, Party at Castle Varlar. Some adult language. (This is my first ever fanfic so please be gentle :) )
1. Chapter 1

Dear Amy,

Looking back, it was a big day for me. It was a day that started in 2016 and ended in 1944. It was the day I met Ian Fleming, yup THAT Ian Fleming. It was the day I decided what (or rather who) I was fighting for – you.

And it was the day I started to fall for Wyatt Logan.

I want you to know about him because, next to you, he and Rufus are the only bit of family I have in this world.

You would like him, Amy. He's not like the egghead, pretentious intellectual guys you always make fun of me for dating. Wyatt's a good man; trustworthy, honest. A lot like Dad… Well, your Dad.

No, my Dad too. Maybe Henry Wallace wasn't my biological father but he raised me. And given what I know now about my real parents, I am beyond grateful to the man who instilled in me a strong sense of right and wrong, and how to love someone unconditionally – qualities Rittenhouse wouldn't approve of. Anyway, I digress….

Wyatt.

Wyatt is loyal. From what I can tell he has remained faithful to his wife, Jessica, who has been dead for 4 years now. Not like Mom who was dating again after, what, five months of widowhood? And his first thoughts after finding out about time travel were about devising ways to go back and save Jessica.

He is clever. Throw him and Rufus into a crazy situation and they will figure out how to get out of it. Remember when we were kids and I showed you Apollo 13? That scene when they dump all the stuff the astronauts have in the shuttle onto a table in Mission Control so the engineers can figure out how to get a square peg into a round hole? Well, that's this job – a bucket full of square pegs and nothing but round holes for days. And we figure it out "one problem at a time" as Wyatt says.

He joined the Army right out of high school to make his grandfather proud and to see a world beyond West Texas. He didn't spend 4 years accruing debt in college like you, me, and everyone we know, did. He went to war. He lost friends and brothers and he still suffers from their loss.

And I judged him. The second I met him and he was smirking and ma'aming me constantly… ok, in that second I'll admit I thought he was hot. But as soon as we were introduced and I was told that he was a soldier, I got this picture in my head – a dumb grunt. Not smart enough so he defaulted to the military. Amy, in my most shameful moment, I was everything you would hate: an elitist snob.

To be fair, he proved me right on a few occasions. He basically molested me with his eyes within hours of meeting (yes, he was probably evaluating how he could use the underwire of my bra, but I didn't know that at the time). Then he nearly shot me, either because he knew he wouldn't actually hit me or because he's a wreckless hothead (the jury is still out on that). Then, when he himself got shot, he powered through like nearly nothing happened so I was pretty convinced there wasn't much but muscle between his ears. Plus, he was kind of an asshole to a lovely and fascinating woman that we were trying to protect. You know, not the best impression.

But on this particular day, this day that started in California and ended in Westphalia, things began to change for me.

The chink in my armor was struck as we were pondering why Flynn took the Mothership to Germany in 1944. Wyatt, rightfully pointed out how foolish it was to follow him. Bringing Rufus to Nazi terriroty… I mean we ALL had a pretty good idea what could happen to him if we was caught. Then Rufus asked "Does anyone here even speak German?"

"I do." Wyatt seemed almost annoyed with himself as he said it. Like he had just sealed our fate because now there was no reason not to go.

But this was not the thought that crossed my mind. Amy, moments before I was advocating going to NAZI GERMANY and my thoughts at hearing Wyatt pave the way weren't _This is the worst idea ever, How the hell has this become my 9 to 5?_ or even _Run for your life!_ Nope. None of that. (Though that would all come later).

What was I, Lucy Preston, time-traveling-history-professor-far-out-of-her-depth, thinking at this particular horrifying moment?

I was thinking, _Sexy._ It was like a spark or an alarm went off in my head.

 _He speaks German? He's smart. Smart is sexy. Wyatt Logan is…sexy._ And not in an objective, yes I know he is attractive but not for me, kind of way. But in a holy crap, I want to throw him against the nearest wall and make out with him, kind of way. Where the hell did that come from?!

As I was still reeling from my wayward train of thought, he drops another bomb. Four languages. He speaks four languages. Four. That's one more than me and one of mine is a dead language.

I could feel the pink heat rising on my cheeks so I quickly changed the subject to the next problem on our ongoing list of history/time travel/Nazi/fashion problems: Finding appropriate clothes for 1944 Germany.

As I got dressed, and further away from the polyglot revelation, fear started to bloom within a pit in my stomach. I stared off into the dressing area mirror at nothing in particular. My hands went clammy and I started to break out into a cold sweat. I have no idea how much time passed. Like some sort of psychic, Wyatt sensed my terror from the other end of the wardrobe bay and came to check on me. _Great_ , I thought, _Hottie McSoldierman thinks I can't hack it. Buck up, Preston._

Getting into the Lifeboat, I was so nervous, he had to once again help me with my seatbelt. _Dammit. How did I not realize how good he smelled before?_ I couldn't stop the split second smirk from flashing across my face as he leaned over me.

But very soon my girlish pre-occupations were all overshadowed by the violence of time travel, by the abject terror of walking into a tavern full of uniformed Nazis, and by the weird and wonderfulness of meeting Fleming before Bond. But, as that round of adrenaline (the third of the day? fourth?) wore off, I found myself staring into another mirror, this one thousands of miles and decades away from home. The silence became unbearable. I looked at the swastika pin I had to wear for our mission. The emblem emblazoned on every bad guy in every WWII movie Dad watched on Saturday mornings when we were kids. I was, in a very real way, about to attend the boogeyman convention. I started to physically quake with fear.

And then Wyatt walked in. He walked right in, sat down, and made me talk. I told him about the car accident. You know, the one that caused me to move out of the dorm and back in with you and Mom for the remainder of my sophomore year. I told him how scared I was back then and how terrified I felt now.

And he listened to me. For the first time in so long – for the first time since you vanished from my life – someone really listened to me.

Wyatt listened, told me I would be ok, and ever so sweetly adjusted my tie.

Yup, Amy, that's all it takes. Apparently I have been deprived of physical contact for so long that adjusting my tie is tantamount to a declaration of love. Since then we have hugged a few times, and even kissed once (long story, not a real kiss), and we even had a conversation that I thought might be leading to something else but we were interrupted and haven't gotten that moment back. But I feel my heart opening up. He's creeping into the crevices of my mind. I catch myself looking at him a little too long; my mind wanders to him when I'm in traffic or getting a pedicure. I'm going off the deep-end, sister.

Oh, Amy. I miss you so much. How am I supposed to process this crazy life, and these potentially (likely) disastrous feelings I'm developing for a man (who despite what he says about being open to possibilities, is probably still very much in love with his dead wife) without you to talk to?

I've decided to write it all down _for you_ , instead of a journal that will someday do more harm than good. If I ever get you back, you can read it and understand…help me to understand...

So there, now you know how your safe and boring older sister who always makes safe and boring choices, began to fall for a broken, brooding, and beautiful man who is completely wrong for her and will eventually break her heart… because he speaks German.

Ich vermisse Dich, (I miss you)

Lucy


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Amy,

Three. Three Times. Three Fucking Times.

Three times in the last 2 months I have thought that Wyatt Logan was about to kiss me. And three times, nothing.

Nothing.

Well, maybe not nothing. But definitely not something. Not what I want.

This must be a sign. This thing that I thought was going to happen between us, is just not happening. The universe is saying no. I mean, I know we are currently living in some kind of dormitory from hell and that we have no real privacy, any of us. But THREE TIMES. Each time getting closer. And the last, his hands were on me. Him, hovering over me in a confined space and STILL we are interrupted before anything could happen.

I'm in love with a man and the only time I have kissed him, we were playing a role and psycho killers were watching us.

My love life has gone from non-existent to absurd. FUCK!

Can you tell I'm frustrated? I guess I shouldn't complain to you, Ames, at least I exist right now. But there is really no one else I can talk to. Jiya, darling that she is, has her own cross to bear. I'm not really sure what it is, but her "episodes" are becoming more frequent and she refuses to talk about it. And I can't talk to Rufus. Now he just looks at me with this awkward grin on his face whenever Wyatt comes up in conversation.

Oh Amy. Once again, I just wish you were here. My life is a mess. Mom is insane – more so than you and I could have ever comprehended – on a level that I can't even wrap my head around. She's not who you and I loved, and fought, and cherished through our lives. She's different. She's a monster.

And I just want Wyatt. Wyatt and ten minutes without some idiot walking in on us. Is that too much to ask?

I'm too old for this high school bullshit. I'm going to just tell him how I feel. I need to tell him how I feel.

I can't live in this limbo anymore.

Fuck. I miss you, Ames. Please come home.

Love your devoted sister,

Lucy


End file.
